


The snowstorm

by Hotaru_Tomoe



Series: Bullets [28]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Chernobyl New Year Challenge 2021, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Snowed In, Unrealistic description of hypothermia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28477893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru_Tomoe/pseuds/Hotaru_Tomoe
Summary: Two unlikely travel companions find themselves having to share a rental car.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Series: Bullets [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372144
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	The snowstorm

As soon as the plane descended and entered the thick blanket of clouds, it shook hard enough to wake the passengers who had fallen asleep.

The signal to fasten their seat belts lit up, and everyone obeyed diligently, straightening their seats.

Also Boris put away his reading glasses and gathered the documents in the briefcase, closing the folding table. He was making the final changes to the speech he was supposed to give at a conference in Donetsk, but with those jolts it was impossible to read anything and work.

However, the passenger seated in front of him seemed of a different opinion: he continued undeterred to write and underline some papers, even when pens and highlighters fell to the ground and he had to unfasten his belt to pick them up before they rolled down the aisle.

Eventually a stewardess had to kindly beg him to remain seated with the belt fastened. The man agreed, but continued to snort and, for some reason, Boris got irritated: couldn't he be still and composed like everyone else?

The Tupolev came out of the clouds and was hit by a heavy snowstorm, which made the journey even more turbulent, and made Boris forget the restless passenger.

After a few minutes, the captain made an announcement.

_ "Dear comrades, it’s your captain speaking: the weather over the region is rapidly deteriorating and this doesn’t allow us to make a safe landing at Donetsk airport. We are therefore forced to make a detour to Luhans'k, where alternative transportation will be made available for you to reach your destinations. We are very sorry for the inconvenience, but we are sure you will understand." _

The “alternative transportation” probably was a couple of buses dating back to the First World War. No, thank you very much, Boris thought, he would have rented a car: luckily he had moved in advance and could still arrive on time at the conference.

But it was annoying for sure, and some murmurs of protest rose in the cabin; the passenger seated in front of Boris loudly expressed his disappointment, drawing the stewardess' attention: he too had a conference in Donetsk and couldn’t miss it.

At that point Boris decided to chime in, "There is a snowstorm, the stewardess can't do anything: leave her alone."

The passenger gave Boris a poisonous look, but then he bit his lip and turned away.

Valery was literally smoking: he had been writing reports and essays for that conference for more than a month, and now everything could be in vain due to a stupid snowfall. Snow in the Soviet Union was certainly not a rare event, why was the pilot in such trouble?

He called a stewardess to tell her the inconvenience the detour would create to him, but was abruptly silenced by the passenger behind him. Who the hell did he think he was? He thought of spitting a venomous retort, but then realized that the man wasn't entirely wrong: it made no sense to blame the poor stewardess for the bad weather.

However, Valery was extremely annoyed: if he had taken one of the buses provided by the airline, he would never have arrived on time, with all the stops the bus would have made along the way. As soon as they landed, he had to rent a car and hope to arrive on time.

The weather was bad also in Luhans'k and the landing was rather turbulent; the passengers heaved a sigh of relief when the plane finally touched the ground and then approached the terminal to disembark them.

Boris and Valery were among the firsts to get on their feet, but when the scientist retrieved the briefcase from the overhead compartment, it opened, spilling all its contents on the aisle and blocking the passage.

Valery cursed loudly and hurried to gather his stuff and close the suitcase again (this time properly, damn his distraction).

Boris felt the urge to climb over him by stomping over his head, but he was too bulky and the aisle too narrow. Shit, that irritating man was wasting his time, and the few rental cars would have been taken by the passengers ahead of them.

"Move!" he barked.

"I'm already doing as fast as I can!" the scientist retorted, unfazed by Boris' size or stern frown.

Instead, the politician was struck: this wasn't the reaction he got when he raised his voice. Normally everyone jumped to their feet and obeyed him.

Finally Valery picked up the suitcase and the two hurried along the aisle and then along the bridge that led into the terminal.

Boris walked briskly towards the car rental, but also the other man seemed to be in a great hurry and tried to keep up with him. He probably needed a car too, but Boris' commitment was certainly more important and he wouldn't let himself be overtaken. He quickened his pace, the other man tripped over his own feet and stayed behind.

Boris laughed to himself, satisfied, but then his run was hampered by a janitor with a cleaning cart, and the other man caught him up. He too laughed at the politician's misfortune.

Eventually they ran, shoulder to shoulder, and nearly crashed on the car rental counter. The clerk gasped, surprised, then she alternately looked at them with an uncertain smile.

"Good morning, comrades. How can I help you?"

"I have to rent a car to go to Donetsk!" Boris and Valery exclaimed at the same time.

"I see. Are you together?"

The two men looked at each other in disgust, "Absolutely not!"

The clerk's smile froze: "Um, then I'm afraid there's a problem. There's only one car left to rent."

"What?" By now Boris and Valery spoke as one man.

"I'm sorry, but several flights were diverted here today."

"Well, I'll hire the car then," Valery said, "I've got to go to a major science conference."

"Not a chance: I also have to speak at a conference, I'll take the car."

"It can't be more important than a lecture of the Academy of Sciences!"

"Of course it is, it's a central committee meeting."

Valery looked him up and down, "An apparatchik. I wonder why I'm not surprised, given your arrogant attitude."

"Arrogant, me? Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?" Boris was speechless: the man wasn’t only annoying, he was a suicide wannabe, talking to a party man like that.

"I need the car."

"Me too."

The two looked at each other defiantly, as if they were willing to duel to the death for the car.

"Comrades, I have a proposal for you," the clerk chimed in, to defuse the situation, "since you have to go to the same city, you can go together."

Boris snorted: almost four hours of travel in the company of that man? Impossible. "I got to the counter first!" he growled as he slammed his fist on it.

"Actually you arrived together..." she objected with a diplomatic smile.

Boris didn’t want to give in, but in the end he realized that there was no other solution; he grumbled a little longer, then looked at the scientist sideways.

Valery wasn’t smiling at the idea of traveling in the company of that grumpy apparatchik, but the woman was right, and the more time they wasted arguing, the more late he would be. He took his identity card and put it on the counter.

"Okay, okay, give us the papers to sign, we need to hurry."

"That's the first sensible thing I hear you say," Boris remarked, taking his driver's license as well.

Valery sighed: it would be a very long journey.

"It's a joke, right?" the scientist snapped at the sight of the sad Moskvič 412 waiting for them in the car rental yard. The car had an indefinite color or maybe it hadn't been washed since the day it left the factory, and had dents and scratches everywhere, even on the roof. It was so battered that it seemed to have traveled around the world.

Several times.

Boris was equally astonished: the car didn't seem able to take them to Donetsk, it didn't even seem able to get out of the parking lot without falling apart, but they had no alternative.

"Let's move. The sooner we arrive, the sooner this nightmare will end."

"That's the first sensible thing I hear you say," Valery said sarcastically, repeating Boris' own words.

The statesman growled: his travel companion didn't seem willing to stop being insolent and brash, but if he thought he could have the last word with Boris, he was very wrong.

"I'll drive," said the statesman, taking the keys out of the scientist's hands, "if you drive like you close your suitcases, we won't go far."

"I'm not that clumsy!" the scientist protested, but just then he slipped on ice and fell on his ass in a very undignified manner.

"Sure, I can see that," Boris chuckled.

The inside of the car was worse off than the outside: the seats were stained with funny spots, about that it was better not to investigate too much, and it smelled as if someone had used it to transport cattle (Valery didn’t exclude that it had happened).

What had he gotten himself into?

Despite Boris’s gloomy predictions, the car started and the strange couple left the city.

After a while, the scientist put his hand to the lighter to smoke, but Boris stopped him.

"The car already smells bad enough."

“I don't think that smoking will make it worse. Besides, we rented the car together: you can play the little dictator in the Kremlin, but not here,” Valery retorted, lighting his cigarette, but he rolled down the window to let the smell dissipate.

Boris gaped at him: he didn't know anyone who addressed a party man with such frankness, and he couldn't find the words to answer back, he wasn't used to having to deal with someone who stood up to him. He should have been furious, threatened to have him deported, but instead he almost admired him: in his world there were few people like him.

That man was disarming, in a way.

"At least hurry up," Boris grumbled, then turned his attention back to the icy road and the snow that continued to fall.

Valery smoked less than half the cigarette and threw it out: maybe Shcherbina was simply bothered by the smoke, there was no reason to make that trip more unpleasant than it was.

He quickly closed the window and tightened his jacket: the car's heating barely worked, throwing out a lukewarm air that smelled of exhaust gas. Shcherbina had had to close all the vents except those oriented on the windshield, so as not to make the glass fog up.

To tell the truth, Valery was glad that someone else was driving: between the snow on the ground and that falling from the sky, the landscape was uniformly white and it was difficult to distinguish the road from the surrounding countryside.

Shcherbina, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease; subtly, Valery observed him better: he was an imposing man, who didn’t go unnoticed in the crowd, and he would also have been handsome without that constant stern frown.

_ "What kind of nonsense are you thinking?" _ he told himself angrily, pressing two fingers to his eyes under the lenses.

"Something wrong?" Shcherbina inquired.

His voice was also peculiar, hoarse and deep.

Valery shrugged without answering and looked out the window again, although now he was almost completely fogged up.

It happened when he liked someone: his boldness melted like an ice lolly under the sun, and he became awkward.

Again he frowned, shocked by his own thoughts: Shcherbina was a bully and an arrogant, like all politicians.

He didn't like him.

Not at all.

“Oh, are you giving me the silent treatment? I’ve to say that I prefer it, given your manners," Boris snarled.

"Of course," Valery snapped, "I have no doubt that you politicians prefer those who move around you as if they were walking on eggshells, careful to measure the words so as not to offend you."

Boris was increasingly incredulous, "You don't have any survival instincts, I hope you are aware of that. I could make you pay for your insolence."

Valery knew it, because that was the mind setting of the politicians, but something told him that this particular politician would not carry out his threats, and he calmly replied, "It would just be a confirmation of what I say."

"May I know what the politicians have done to you?"

"You believe that the only thing that matters in the world is your power games, as if the rest of society, or even the facts and science, had to bow to you."

Valery looked back at him: chin up, pursed lips, resolute eyes behind those thick glasses. Boris had never known anyone with such blue eyes. He looked like a creature from another world.

Although Legasov was practically insulting him and the entire government, Boris found himself thinking he was beautiful.

Besides, it's not like he was all wrong about politics. Boris didn’t know the reason for the scientist's hatred, but he could easily imagine it: fund cuts, a ban on international cooperation, some censored research.

"That's the way the world goes," Boris concluded.

"It sucks," muttered Valery, sulky.

“Are you always so grumpy? It must be a pleasure to have you around, in everyday life."

"I'm not grumpy!"

Boris arched an eyebrow, and Valery bit his lip: his words were openly contradicting him. He wasn't giving his best.

"I'm just very nervous about this ridiculous situation," he admitted, "but you’re not a champion of amiability yourself."

Boris sighed, but didn’t reply: in fact they were two old grumpy men; he turned slightly to look at Legasov: his facial features were soft, and his freckles made him look younger. Yes, he was a handsome man, and if it wasn’t for that grouchy personality, he...

_ "You what? Do not be ridiculous!" _ Boris chided himself, looking back at the road.

Once in Donetsk, their paths would separate and they would never see each other again.

Assuming to arrive in Donetsk.

He tapped the fuel gauge with his index finger and swore under his breath.

"Problems?" Valery asked.

"We’re almost out of fuel."

"What?"

"Don’t worry. If nothing has changed, there is a petrol station a few kilometers away."

"Are you from around here?"

"Yes, from Debal'ceve. We will cross it because he is on the road to Donetsk. I still have my family home there."

Valery looked at his watch, "Do you want us to stop? We won't be in time for our conferences anymore." Now it seemed absurd to have argued so fiercely at the airport: the weather wouldn’t allow them to arrive on time.

"No, it's not necessary. I go back every so often to do some repairs, but there is no one left to visit."

"Hm..." Valery murmured, not sure what to say.

"What about you?"

"Uh?"

"Where are you from?" Boris asked patiently.

"Tula."

"And do you ever go back there, maybe for the holidays?"

Valery shook his head, “After my mother passed away, I sold the house. Now I live in Moscow with my cat."

"No roots," Boris commented.

"It's easier that way."

Boris considered those words: yes, it was. It was easier if he thought they were just two unlikely travel companions who would be separated in under two hours.

But he had never loved easy things in his life. He could have followed in his father's footsteps and worked on the railways, he would have had support and a smooth road ahead, but instead he had chosen a completely uncharted territory.

Through the heavy snowstorm he caught a glimpse of the gas station and pulled over to the pumps, turning off the engine.

The station was an unmanned self-service, a sort of strange mirage in the middle of the Ukrainian countryside.

"Nobody will come," Boris said, when he saw that Valery wasn’t moving.

The scientist eyed the blizzard raging outside.

“And why should I get off? You’re the one driving."

"Exactly! I've done all the work, now it's your turn, comrade."

"Why don't you say that you just don't want to freeze?" Valery snapped, opening the door.

It seemed like they couldn't go five minutes without arguing. And he even thought he might like him, what an idiot!

The storm hit him, and his glasses were covered in snow in seconds. Valery took them off and put them in his jacket pocket, inserted a few bills into the column, grabbed the pump and refueled as fast as he could.

The cold was unbearable.

"Aren't we close to the Azov Sea? I thought the weather was more temperate around here,” he complained, getting back into the car.

“The sea is more than three hours away from here. In the inland winters are harsh," Boris stated, and started the engine.

The car walked for a couple of meters to the side of the road, then died.

Boris cursed and turned the key again, but the engine didn’t started.

It was totally dead.

Valery frowned in confusion, "What happened?"

"I have no idea."

Boris got off, opened the hood and checked the engine compartment. He wasn’t a mechanic, but he understood something about cars, and everything seemed fine there: there was no leakage, the cables were correctly connected, the radiator wasn’t overheated, the headlights still worked, so the problem wasn't even the battery.

He got back in the car, tried to turn it on again, but the car didn't start.

"Come on, you rattletrap!" he yelled, slapping the steering wheel.

"Maybe we could try..." Valery murmured, then shook his head, clearly out of his depth.

Boris got a terrible suspicion, but no, Legasov couldn't be that stupid.

"What fuel did you put in, petrol or diesel?" he asked him, deadly calm.

"I... well, of course..." Valery stammered. He saw practically nothing without his glasses, and no, he hadn't checked, he had just grabbed the first pump that came his way.

"Congratulations, great job!" Boris roared, "I should strangle you!"

"I don't... can't we empty the tank and refill it?"

"And exactly how? Do you expect me to turn the car over on its side to let the petrol out? How can you be so clumsy and distracted?"

"Okay, I get it!" Embarrassed by the stupid mistake, Valery got out of the car.

"Where are you going?" Boris yelled after him.

"Before, I saw a town, I go back and ask for help."

They were halfway between Zoryns'k and Debal'ceve, there were no other inhabited centers along the way, the snow didn't stop and it was also getting dark, so the statesman caught up with him and grabbed him by the elbow.

"Don't be silly, it will be at least two hours of walking."

"I'm trying to make up for what I've done."

"Freezing to death on the road doesn't seem like a great remedy."

"I thought you were going to strangle me," Valery said, not looking him in the eye. He would have deserved it.

"Maybe later," Boris muttered, "It would be too easy now."

"What do we do?"

"Let's get back in the car and wait, sooner or later someone will drive by."

"I don't think so," Valery hissed, on the verge of panic, "we are in the middle of nowhere."

"We are in the countryside," Boris replied calmly, getting back in the car, "and in the countryside there is always some work to do for farmers. Someone will drive by."

Well, Shcherbina knew how to reassure someone.

_ "He's a politician, it's his job," _ Valery told himself. But it worked, because he felt calmer.

At least for five minutes.

Then, as time passed, panic returned to assail him: they would die there, frozen like two stockfish, because of his distraction.

The car battery still worked, and Shcherbina kept the headlights on and the windshield wipers running to check the road and see if an unlikely savior came, but the heating was connected to the engine and therefore the inside of the car was freezing.

Valery was chattering his teeth.

“You’re dressed very light for the season,” Boris observed, rubbing his numb hands.

"Yes, well, I didn't imagine ending up in this situation. I was planning to get off the plane in Donetsk, take a taxi and go to the conference."

Valery looked at the statesman's dark coat with envy. It looked very warm, especially when compared to his frayed turtleneck and tweed jacket, so warm it made him want to climb into Shcherbina's seat and bury himself under that coat, despite hating politicians, this politician in particular, and being ashamed to death for what he had done.

Hell, he was too cold to cling to his principles.

Body heat, that he needed, and fast.

"Look, what I'm about to ask you will seem strange..." he began, but Boris screamed, making him jump.

“Look over there, they are headlights! I told him someone would come by."

The politician got out of the car, waving his arms to be noticed, but Valery regretted that the savior hadn’t arrived five minutes later, although he was relieved to have been saved.

_ "What, Valery, didn't you just say you hate this politician?" _

Boris knocked on the window and Valery shook himself from his reverie.

"Come on, let's go: this man is not going to Donetsk, but he can give us a lift to Debal'ceve."

"I see. Is there an inn there?"

"No."

"Then where can I stay for the night?"

"At my home."

"What?"

"Come on, hurry up!" Boris cut short, taking the suitcases.

Their savior was a farmer who drove a truck with an open loading area, in which he carried some sheeps.

He and Boris had to huddle in the cabin with the driver.

There was also a huge black dog, more similar to a wolf than a pet, and which was also moved to the loading area. The sheeps bleated loudly, not at all happy with the choice.

If Valery had thought that the Moskvič stank, he had to change his mind as soon as he entered the cabin of the truck: by comparison, their car smelled of lily of the valley.

"Not a word," Boris hissed in his ear, and Valery pursed his lips. He was honest, yes, but not to the point of complaining to the man who had saved them.

"So this is the fella who didn’t distinguish diesel from petrol, huh?" the farmer chuckled in Ukrainian, looking up at Valery.

Boris nodded and the farmer laughed louder.

Valery didn't understand, but he was sure they were talking about him. Great.

It was the worst day of his life, but he put that thought aside when he noticed the white puff of steam in front of his mouth.

The truck was colder than their car.

"I’m sorry, can you ask him to turn up the heating a little? I'm really freezing."

Boris translated, but the farmer said something, shaking his head.

"The heating is broken," Boris explained, "but in about ten minutes we will be at our destination."

At that point Valery wasn’t sure he would survive another ten minutes, even though he was now squeezed between the door and the massive body of Boris: he had never been so cold in his life and he was tired, very tired, so much that his eyes closed.

Perhaps, if he had slept, that agony would have passed more quickly.

Boris chatted with the farmer for a while so as not to think about the cold, then turned to Legasov, suspicious of his stillness and silence: the man had his eyes closed and his lips were almost purple from the cold. He was going into hypothermia.

"Shit!" he cursed, and shook him vigorously. “Legasov! Legasov, wake up, you must not sleep."

"Is he that unwell?" the farmer marveled, “and to say that today it's not even particularly cold. City folks, pah... "

Boris continued to call Legasov, but he didn’t react, so he shook him by the shoulder and finally slapped him on the face.

“Legasov… Valery! Valery! Come on, you have to wake up." This wasn’t the moment to worry about the etiquette.

"I'm sleepy," Valery muttered in a thick voice, trying to push away the annoying travel companion with his arm.

"We're almost there, my house is at the end of this road, you have to stay awake."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Boris continued to shake and talk to him until they were in front of the front door; he thanked the farmer, helped Valery out, took the keys hidden under a vase of flowers and opened the door.

Meanwhile Valery had leaned against the wall and closed his eyes again.

It was bad.

"Wake up, wake up!"

Unceremoniously, Boris gave him a vigorous shake, until Valery opened his eyes again.

"My word, you are the most irritating and insistent man I've ever met," Valery grumbled. Part of his mind registered that something was wrong: his thoughts had slowed down, he couldn't shake that terrible sleepiness and he was getting colder.

"Well, I will continue to be irritating and insistent until you have recovered."

"I just want to sleep," Valery complained.

"You would die in your sleep, you are hypothermic."

"Hypo... hyp..." Valery tried, but he gave up almost immediately. Funny, he felt like his tongue was covered in glue and he couldn't move it well.

"Keep walking around the room."

"What if I don't?"

"I'll kick you!" the politician roared.

Though slowed down, Valery realized that Boris wasn’t joking. He shrugged and paced back and forth.

The living room was small, with only a wooden table and three mismatched chairs, a chest, a sofa covered with a white cloth, and some wall units above the sink; a door led to another room, probably the bedroom. The wall of the small kitchenette was covered with all different tiles, some chipped, but the whole thing was pleasant and gave the vibes of a home, not a perfect place, but a place where you wanted to return.

He understood why Boris hadn't sold the house, even though he didn't return here often.

However, this wasn’t what he had imagined thinking of the roots of the politician. He had thought of something much more posh and formal.

He was a little ashamed, looking at Boris' bent back, crouched in a corner while he retrieved some logs of wood, straw and newspaper sheets from an old trunk.

"I told you to walk," Boris said when he saw that Valery had stopped, "and wave your arms."

"It’s useless, it's inhumanly cold even in here!"

"Now I turn on the stove and in a while it will get better."

Boris was freezing too: his body continued to shiver to fight the cold, his nails had turned purple and his hands were shaking as he lit the fire. Fortunately the wood was very dry and the newspapers weren't damp, so the fire started immediately; he vigorously pumped the bellows to obtain higher flames, but it would take hours to heat the room: they needed a faster solution.

He recovered two old metal buckets under the sink, filled them with water and placed them on the stove plates, then went to the bathroom. The toilet was still located outside the house, in the bathroom there was just enough space for a sink and a bathtub, which her mother also used to wash clothes, back in the days. He filled it halfway with cold water.

There was no hot water in the house, which is why Boris was boiling it in the buckets on the stove: a hot bath would have saved both of them from the risk of immediate hypothermia.

He went back to the other room and saw that, despite his recommendations, Valery had crouched against the stove and closed his eyes again.

He wanted to scream, but on the other hand he understood how difficult it was to fight the numbness of the cold: he too had experienced it during the war.

He knelt in front of him and slapped his cheeks again.

"Valery!"

"It hurts..." the scientist complained, opening his eyes with difficulty.

"I'm just trying to keep you awake."

"Oh really? It seems to me that you take pleasure in hitting me."

A corner of Boris's mouth rose in a smirk: despite everything the scientist hadn't lost his argumentative streak, so maybe he wasn't that sick.

"Stand up, come on!"

Valery tried, but his body was so numb that it responded badly to his commands; he then clung to Boris' shoulders and let himself be pulled to his feet, then told himself that he wasn’t impressed at all by his physical prowess, lying.

The water was about to boil and Boris pushed Valery towards the bathroom.

"Undress," he ordered, then walked away again.

Valery blinked slowly: he had misunderstood because of hypothermia, right? Boris hadn't really asked him to strip naked in his bathroom. Why then?

The statesman returned with the two buckets of boiling water, which he poured into the tub.

“Are you still dressed? Get undressed, quick, the water won't stay hot forever!"

"But…"

"It's the quickest way to warm us up."

"Us?"

Under the astonished gaze of Valery, the statesman shed one garment after another. As absurd as the thought was, Shcherbina looked even bigger and imposing without clothes, with those strong arms, still toned back and very long legs.

He was beautiful. Impossible, but beautiful.

When Boris turned to put his clothes on a chair, he shamelessly showed his butt and Valery couldn't suppress a whimper.

Boris turned, but misunderstood that sound as a distressed one, and walked over to him.

“Are you having trouble undoing the buttons? My fingers are numb too, but if you need a hand..."

Valery abruptly turned to the wall.

"No!"

"I'm just trying to help," Boris sighed in exasperation.

“I know, I understand and thank you. But maybe we could take turns in the tub."

"The second one would have lukewarm water, and I don't want to argue about that too. Stop complaining and come in," Boris ordered, plunging into the hot water.

Valery was embarrassed and worried about the possible reaction of his body, but the idea of a hot bath was too tempting to give it up.

"Don't you feel embarrassed even a little?" Valery asked, taking off his shoes.

"When we were little, my brothers and I bathed together to save water."

"Well, this situation is different."

Boris chuckled and Valery looked at him over his shoulder.

"What's so funny?"

"You: you are so cheeky that I never imagined you were so modest."

"This is something else!" Valery complained, throwing the vest to the floor.

Boris didn’t answer back: whatever sarcastic comment he was about to say, it stuck in his throat at the sight of the scientist's naked body. He had seen (and admired) his freckled face before, but he didn't imagine he had freckles all over his body. He couldn't take his eyes off him, especially from his full, round bottom.

Yes, it was definitely something else.

A shiver ran down his spine, but it wasn't from the cold.

Valery covered his private parts when he stepped into the tub, but Boris still caught a glimpse of reddish curly pubic hair. He hoped he'd looked away quickly enough not to be noticed, but he realized that his idea of a bath together had some problematic implications.

Valery plunged into the tub up to his chin, closing his eyes: the hot water was a blessing, their frozen misadventure. Slowly, he felt the sensitivity return in his fingers and toes and finally he stopped shaking.

"I want to stay in here forever," the scientist murmured.

"See? I told you it was a good idea."

_ "Not quite," _ thought Valery, opening his eyes: Boris had placed his arms on the sides of the tub and so his chest seemed even wider. He was a sight.

Valery did his best to stay in his half of the tub, but it wasn't easy not to come in contact, because Boris had endless legs.

Mortified, Valery realized that another part of his body was benefiting from the effects of the hot water and was quickly awakening.

If Boris had noticed, he would have drowned him.

He tried to recoil towards the edge of the tub, but slipped on the porcelain and found himself practically between Boris’ legs, who looked at him in surprise.

In a clumsy attempt to get away Valery splashed water all over the place.

"Can you stay five minutes without doing any damage?" Boris grumbled.

"And you must have such long legs?"

Shit, it was a disaster: if Boris had leaned over he would have seen that...

The statesman put his hands under the water and splashed Valery full in the face, leaving him in disbelief.

Valery blinked slowly, "Did you...?"

"Yes," replied the statesman, with a satisfied smile, "it's since I met you that I want to do it."

"How old are you, five?"

Boris squirted him again, "I’m better than you, always grumbling like an old fart."

"Hey, stop it!" Valery complained, splashing some water in turn.

He missed the target and the water splashed out of the tub.

"Thank heaven you didn't drive!" Boris laughed, splashing again, and hitting him right.

"Do you want war?" Valery shouted. He felt like laughing: two grown, big men playing in a bathtub like two children was ridiculous, but Boris didn't seem to care, judging by his thunderous laughter.

Caught in the game, Valery threw himself on Boris with the intention of pushing his head underwater, but he hadn’t calculated that Boris was much stronger and didn’t move an inch, nor that he was really clumsy, so much so that his only result was that of collapsing on him.

The two men instantly stopped laughing, all too aware of that sudden skin-to-skin contact and their faces separated by a few centimeters.

Terrified that Boris would notice his erection, Valery levered on Boris's shoulders to get up and out of there, but instinctively Boris held him in his arms.

Boris’ eyes darkened with desire. Oh, he had noticed it all right.

Valery whimpered again.

"Got you," Boris whispered.

"You're impossible," Valery murmured slowly.

"Yes well, you too, so we're even," Boris replied, then grabbed him by the nape and kissed him, licking his way into his mouth with his tongue.

Valery's hands slipped around his neck and he literally melted on him.

Boris' erection pressed on his belly and Valery smiled on his lips, "An effect of hot water?"

"No, it's you," Boris roared in his ear, "you drive me crazy." He had never known a man so exasperating and at the same time so engaging. He made him feel alive.

"Boris..." Valery moaned, when the other grabbed his buttocks.

The water was cooling down and in any case the tub wasn’t suitable for what Boris had in mind, so he kissed him one last time and then pushed him out the tub.

"It's still cold outside."

“I'll take care of warming you up,” Boris promised, and Valery shivered.

They dried themselves with a rough towel, then Boris took him by the hand and led him into the other room; he took pillows and blankets from the chest and threw them on the floor in front of the stove, then pulled Valery to him.

A lock of reddish hair had fallen over his forehead, and Boris felt his fingertips tingle with the urge to touch them, so he did.

Valery closed his eyes and sighed with contentment, let himself lie down on the blankets, but when Boris tried to roll on him, he bit his shoulder.

"Do you think you can give me orders, hm?"

"I'm pretty confident... AH!" he yelled when Valery touched his balls. "Your hands are frozen!"

"In this case it comes in handy," Valery murmured, before disappearing under the covers.

"What... aaah..."

Boris dropped his head on the pillow and closed his eyes when Valery closed his lips around his glans, tickling his frenulum with the tip of his tongue, then stroked his balls again with his cold fingers.

Boris exhaled a curse and clenched the covers in his fists: the violent contrast between Valery's hot mouth and his icy hands was incredible. He moaned vocally and spread his legs shamelessly, silently begging Valery not to stop. There was no danger of that, anyway: Valery seemed to have fun between his legs and wasn’t going to stop. The few brain cells of Boris that weren't clouded by pleasure registered that he had to do his best to reciprocate.

Valery quickly brought him to the brink of orgasm with his torture of hot and cold, and Boris tried to warn him by placing a hand in his hair, but Valery didn't stop.

He was wonderfully stubborn.

"Val... oh... OH!"

The orgasm left him breathless, while Valery continued to kiss the insides of his thighs that were still trembling. He looked at him from under the covers, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes that seemed to say  _ "Can you do better?", _ and Boris had never backed down from a challenge, certainly not this challenge.

"Come here," he said; he kissed him on the lips, then grabbed him firmly by the hips. Another day he would have spent hours exploring his freckles, but now there was another part of Valery that required attention.

Boris was good, Valery had understood it from the first kiss, and he expected a memorable blowjob. What he didn't expect was that Boris’ lips would slide past his balls and then further down...

"Boris!" he yelped, "You-can't lick me there."

"And why on earth?" Boris asked, looking falsely innocent, before bowing his head again.

"Because it's... it's... uh... uuuhh!" Valery's complaint died in a long howl that made the statesman smile.

"Oh, I think I could make myself a home down here."

“And… ah… you tell me I'm cheeky,” Valery gasped, covering his eyes with one arm. It was unbelievable, he had never felt so horny in his life, and when Boris' strong hand gripped his erection, he completely lost his mind.

"So... you howl," Boris said. He had raised himself on one elbow and was stroking Valery’s back, "Interesting."

"Impossible man," Valery muttered with his face buried in the pillow. He felt lethargic again, but this time not from the cold. In fact, now he was very hot under the covers. Only, the floor was uncomfortable, but he still didn't want to get up, he wanted to enjoy Boris' hands on his body a little longer. "Anyway, you are equally loud."

Boris leaned over to touch his shoulder with his lips.

"I see that you always want to have the last word."

Valery nodded.

"Will I ever be able to silence you?"

Valery raised and kissed him soundly on the lips, "No, but you can keep trying."


End file.
